 Chapter 1 of Zafloya. The historian who would wish his lessons to sink deep into the heart, thereby essaying to render mankind virtuous and more happy, must not content himself with simply detailing a series of events. He must ascertain causes and follow progressively their effects. He must draw deductions from incidents as they arise and ever revert to the actuating principle. About the latter end of the fifteenth century, on the birth night of the young Victoria de Loredani, most of the youthful nobility of any rank in Venice were assembled at the palazzo of her parents to do honor to the festival. The hearts of all appeared in unison with the hilarity of the scene, even the lovely and haughty Victoria smiled with an unchecked vivacity. For no fair Venetian had presumed to vie with her, either in beauty of person or splendor of decoration. Another circumstance contributed to elevate her spirits and render her triumph complete. Leonardo, her brother, ever haughty and turbulent in his manners, had acknowledged that she outshone every female present. At this time the Marques de Loredani had been married seventeen years to Larina de Cornari, a female of unexampled beauty and of rare and singular endowments. If she possessed a foible, it arose from vanity, from too great a thirst of admiration and confidence in herself. At the period of her marriage with the Marques she was scarcely fifteen, and he himself not more than twenty. It was a marriage contracted without the concurrence, without even the knowledge of respective friends, resolved on in the delirium of passion, concluded in the madness of youth. Yet unlike the two frequent result, disgust and repentance did not follow this impetuous union. For chance and circumstances happily combined to render it propitious. Time had not yet perfected the character of Larina. She saw beside her, and husband, whose ardent love appeared to suffer no diminution, no temptations crossed her path. It required then no effort to be virtuous, and as in revolving years reason approved the choice of a passion at the time undiscriminating, she gradually adored as an husband him she had thoughtlessly selected as a lover. Two children, within two years after their marriage, had been its only fruits. From this circumstance lavish and imprudent was the fondness bestowed by the parents upon their idolized offspring. Boundless and weak was the indulgence forever shown to them. The youthful parents little comprehended the extent of the mischief they were doing. To see their wayward children happy, their infantine and lovely faces, undisfigured by tears or vexation, was a pleasure too great to be resigned. From the distant reflection of future evil possible to accrue from the indulgence. The consequence was that Victoria, though at the age of fifteen, beautiful and accomplished as an angel, was proud, haughty, and self-sufficient of a wild, ardent, and irrepressible spirit, indifferent to reproof, careless of censure, of an implacable, revengeful, and cruel nature, and bent upon gaining the ascendancy in whatever she engaged. The young Leonardo, who was a year older than his sister, having been as much the victim of an injurious fondness as herself, possessed, with all the bolder shades of her character, a warm, impassioned soul, yielding easily to the seductions of the wild and beautiful, accessible of temptation, and unable to resist, in any shape, the first impulses of his heart. This disposition, though it perhaps might never lead him into vice, would prevent him from repelling its inroads with the iron shield of energy. He was violent and revengeful, yet capable of sacrificing himself to a sentiment of gratitude. He had a quick, impatient sense of honor, feelings noble, though impetuous, and a pride encouraged infinitely by the Marquesa of birth and family dignity, which sooner than by an act of meanness have disgraced he would have perished. Thus it could not be denied that in his ill, regulated character were some bright tints. Such were the children whom early education had tended equally to corrupt, and such were the children whom to preserve from future depravity required the most vigilant care, aided by such brilliant examples of virtue and decorum as should induce the desire of emulation. Thus would have been counteracted the evils engendered by the want of steady attention to the propensities of childhood. Yet with all these causes for reflection and deep regret, causes which did not strike the broad beam of conviction upon the eyes of the infatuated parents, yet were they happy? The whole city of Venice contained no pair so happy. La Rina di Loredani, still in the meridian of beauty, and still adored by an husband, though not with the fantastic delirium of a boy, yet with an enthusiastic and approved affection. The most beneficent, the noblest, and the best of human beings was the Marquesa admired by all, yet living alone for her, whom his boyish heart had worshiped, his unsuspicious and generous nature gloried in the attractions of his wife, to see her followed and admired, yielded to his heart a pleasure exquisite and refined, to hers a sentiment less noble, because it centered in self gratification, and consideration of self ever debased the heart. At this juncture it may not be amiss for a few moments to degress, in stating, that at the period which commences this history, the Venetians were a proud, strict, and fastidious people. In no country was the pride of nobility carried to a greater extent. Their manners also received a deep and gloomy tincture from the nature of their government, which in its character was jealous and suspicious, dooming sometimes to a public, sometimes to a private death, on mere surmise or apprehension of design against the State, and always by secret trial, its most distinguished members. This power was exercised by Il Consiglio de D'Acce, or Council of Ten, by ordering nobles to be hung by the feet between the pillars of Saint Mark, or else dispatching them more privately, that the order might not suffer in the opinion of the people by plunging their bodies in the Orfano or otherwise. The Venetians were fond of their mistresses and jealous of their wives to a degree, uniting the Spanish and Italian character in its most sublimated state of passion. To avenge an injury sustained, or supposed to be so, to achieve a favorite point, to gratify a desire otherwise unobtainable, poison or the dagger were constantly resorted to, sanguinary and violent by nature, climate, habit, and education, the hatred of the Venetians once excited became implacable and endured through life. Having thus briefly reverted to the character of a nation, where the principal scenes of the following history are laid, we proceed with matter more immediately connected with it. It was in the midst of the gay reveling in the Palazzo de Loredani that a stranger arriving at the gates requested admittance to the Marcus. On being told that one acquainted with his name desired to see him, the Marcus ordered immediately that the person should be admitted. When the doors of the saloon being thrown open, a graceful figure entered respectfully bowing and presented to Loredani a letter from the Baron Wormsburg, a German nobleman and most intimate friend of his, wherein he requested of the Marcus that he would exercise his hospitality in favor of Count Ardolf the Bearer, a German likewise of high rank, fortune, and unblemished character. No sooner had the Marcus de Loredani perused the letter than with conciliating politeness, he extended his hand to the Count and led him immediately to the upper end of the saloon where Lorena, her daughter, and the rest of the company had assembled that the stranger on his entrance might not be disconcerted or pained by fancy observation. He introduced him first to the Marcusa and then to the company in general. There was that in the air and striking appearance of the Count which created at once a sensation of awe and admiration. His figure was noble and commanding, and in his feature shown a dignity and fascination which, while it irresistibly attracted their regards of all, flattered and delighted if his could be attracted in return. Yet once attracted those powerful regards overpowered by their beauty and their brilliancy, those on whom they turned. Such in his personal semblance was Count Ardolf, and as such drew speedily around him a bright circle of which he became the focus, everyone forgetting in the ease and gracefulness of his manners, the recentness of his introduction, while his presence diffused around a spirit, a vivacity, and an interest of which before the assembly had seemed unconscious. Victoria, as the young divinity of the festival, was presented to him by her beautiful and scarcely blooming mother. The eyes of the Count dwelt momentarily upon her charms. He complimented her with politeness, but not with warmth, and turned immediately to the Marcussa with an error so expressive of admiration that an insignificant observer might have remarked the difference of his regards. At a late hour the company separated, and Count Ardolf was conducted to a splendid apartment in the Palazzo of the Marcussa. Before we proceed, some account must be given of Count Ardolf as to the bent of his principles and character. As to his introduction, amid the ill-fated family of Lauridani, may be ascribed the origin of those misfortunes which subsequently overwhelmed them. By birth he was German. Being left early in life from the death of an only surviving parent to his own disposal, he quitted his native country and visited France and England, in both places instigated at once by inclinations naturally vicious and the contamination of bad example. He plunged into such a stream of depravity as rendered him a few years callous to every sentiment of honour and delicacy. But the species of crime, the dreadful and diabolical triumph which gratified his worthless heart the most, was to destroy not the fair fame of an innocent, unsullied female, not to deceive and abandon a trusting, yielding maid. No, he loved to take higher and more destructive aim. His was the savage delight to intercept the happiness of wedded love, to wean from an adoring husband the regards of a pure and faithful wife, to blast with his baleful breath the happiness of a young and rising family, to seduce the best, the noblest affections of the heart, and to glory and to exult in the widespreading havoc he had caused, endowed with a form cast in nature's finest mold, blessed or rather cursed, with abilities to astonish and enslave, possessed of every grace and every charm that could render a man the most dangerous or the most perfect of his sex. He employed these rare and fascinating qualities as a demon would put on the semblance of an angel to mislead and to betray. Yet even of perpetual conquest the heart of man will grow weary. Ardolf, as the fury of passion or excitement of vanity, became gratified and assuaged, sunk into ananity, and despising all he had acquired, disdaining those females whose blandishments, while they had momentarily enchanted his senses, had been incapable of touching his heart. He quitted Paris, the hotbed of his vices and profligacy in disgust, and hoped by change of scene to give a zest to those feelings which excessive and unlimited gratification had blunted and almost destroyed. Yet in change of scene he had as yet failed of finding what he sought with an anxious and impatient curiosity, a woman who should be capable of inspiring his heart with continued sensation, for the proud Ardolf denied in his mind the possibility of the existence of such a woman. He analyzed and investigated with too contemptuous and prejudiced an eye, not to find in the sex an infinity of folly, weakness, and inconsistency. Thus it was that having triumphed over them he disdained his conquest and disdained himself to have been attracted by them. Such was the skeptical, the cruel, the dangerous Ardolf at the period of his arrival in Venice, for which plays the Baron Wormsburg, a friend and distant relative of his family, seeing him only such as he appeared to be, for Ardolf had deigned to revisit for a short period his native land, gave him to the Marcus di Loredani an introductory letter. Little suspecting the depravity of his heart he recommended him in strong terms to the kindness and hospitality of that nobleman, building that recommendation upon the strength of an honorable friendship formerly subsisting between them. To Venice Ardolf had only come in search of novelty and amusement to find, if possible, fresh scope for the gratification of his seductive and destroying talents, little expecting, however, that he should meet with Ott to attract or to retain him there. We now hastened to the more circumstantial part of our history. He had not been long and envious and ungrateful guest in the house of Loredani, ere he beheld with evil eye the happiness which reigned among them. His soul burned to disfigure the beautiful fabric of a family's happiness, and to scatter around him misery and devastation. But to achieve this, on whom did the malignant timid fix his regards? Not on the young, the ardent and self-confident Victoria, but on her lovely and attractive mother. On the wife of his hospitable and suspecting host, of the man who daily and hourly showered down civilities and tensions on him. It was his honor and his happiness that he sought to blight. It was his offspring whom he sought to destroy and to disgrace. It was his wife whom he sought to seduce. Such was the gratitude of man to man, and such still it continues to be. But it so happened that susceptible as was Lorena to admiration, and more particularly so, from a man of the high accomplishments and endowments of Count Ardolf, she still loved her husband with an undiminished love, and considered him as the god of his sex. The attention and the admiration she excited were certainly a source of gratification to her. But then she excused herself with the belief that it was as much on his account as on her own, and hence was a most powerful barrier opposed to the machinations of the wily Ardolf. But unfortunately opposition and difficulty were what he had long and ardently sought. It strung his dangerous energies anew, and while he gazed on the glowing charms of the devoted wife, and beheld with darkened eye their faithful vassalage to her husband, he vowed, even in the center of his guilty heart, that he would conquer or perish in the attempt. He had now been nearly three months under the roof of the Marquesque when a profound melancholy, partly occasioned by a view of happiness he had not yet destroyed, and partly by the gradual increase of sensations to which he had till now been a stranger, appeared to take entire possession of him, whether it was the beautiful and unobtrusive virtues of Lorena, or whether it was that her high and protected situation, by enhancing the danger and boldness of his attempt added fuel to his passion, cannot be ascertained. Certain it was, women, more beautiful than the Marquesque, had been tempted, obtained, and forsaken by him. It could not, therefore, all seducing as she was, be her person only that enslaved him, and for the beauties of mind, further than they added glory to the destruction he caused, he had little devotion. How then happened it, that on frequent occasions rushing from her presence, in a delirium of rage and passion, he discovered and avowed to his proud heart the ascendancy she had gained over its hitherto frigid insensibility. Sometimes in imagination he would reduce her in an instant to the level of these unfortunates he had betrayed and abandoned, but even so she was still Lorena, and he felt that over her he could gain no triumph. Thus in the maddening passion, which hourly consumed him, did he experience some slight retribution for the misery he had so often caused to others. Meantime Lorena, on remarking his increasing melancholy, had experienced sensations in her bosom which she wished not to investigate. She could not help perceiving, for so the insidious Ardolf had desired, that it was a melancholy not independent of herself. His stolen, yet purposely betrayed, ardent glances directed towards her, his deep size, the tumultuousness of his frame, if by accident he touched her hand, or even any part of her dress, all, all failed not to be observed by the Marcussa, and to make its unfortunate impression. Yet had she never, even in thought, strayed from her husband, for so gradual, so unsuspected are the first approaches of a guilty passion to the heart, that she would have started on being told she felt more for Ardolf than the interest of friendship. It was one evening that, straying pensively down an avenue in the garden, she suddenly encountered him, not, however, accidentally on his side, who was forming unconsciously to herself a portion of her thoughts. He appeared before her, pale, haggard, and with an expression of wretchedness on his countenance deeper than any he had yet worn. Involuntarily she stopped, and looking with kindness in his face, asked, in a soothing voice, if he were ill. An inquiry into the cause of his complaint was all he had anxiously desired, but had not yet ventured to expect. Thrown for once, however, off his guard, no longer master of his violent emotions, he threw himself at her feet, and acknowledged in hurried accents the passion with which she had filled up his heart. Confounded, bewildered, and overcome, the trembling Lorena knew not how to fly. Yet to remain an instant after an avowal so base would, she felt, be infamous and participating in its guilt. She made an agitated attempt to disengage herself from the count, who, on his knees, grasped wildly between his hands one of hers, but in admitting to her thoughts, even for an instant, any other man than her husband, in listening for an instant to an acknowledgment of the passion with which she had inspired him. The unhappy Lorena had advanced one step in the path of vice, and to recede required an energy and resolution almost incompatible with the weakness of which she had been already guilty. At length, inspired with sudden resolution, touched as it were, by a keen sense of the impropriety of her situation, she snatched her hand from the deluding Ardolf, and, flying from his presence, sought in the solitude of her chamber, vent to her emotions. There, sunk in shame and absorbed in retrospection, she dared not analyze the feelings excited in her bosom. A thousand times did she wish that Count Ardolf had never entered the Palazzo Loredani, but the reigning, the only foyable of her nature, whispered to her the brilliant triumph of captivating such a heart as his, whose every smile, whose every look seemed a condescension from the superiority of his nature. Oh, self-love, dangerous and resistless flatterer, Thou immolatest at thy shrine more victims than all the artifices of man. Ernestly did Lorena desire to be virtuous. Ernestly did she pray for fortitude to preserve her from the power of temptation. But she had not strength to fly from it, and in that alone her safety would have consisted. Her mind became torn with conflicting sentiments. Her reason, her gratitude, the secret and powerful ties of early habit, taught her to adore her husband. But the insidious Ardolf daily led her senses wandering and corrupted the purity of her heart. In his company she became thoughtful and embarrassed. In his absence, restless and unhappy, the cruel Ardolf perceived his advantage and pursued it. Like a keen bloodhound he hunted the wretched victim of his pursuit, even to the brink of destruction. No friendly hand extended to save her. No guardian angel hovered nigh, and ere she knew the extent of her danger she was far beyond the reach of preservation. CHAPTER III That it is, but too often, an ungenerous principle in human nature, first most ardently to desire the possession of a certain object, and despise it when obtained, cannot be disowned. In the present instance, however, there was an exception to this principle. A real passion had absorbed, for the first time, the heart of the seducer Ardolf, to have estranged from a husband the honour of his wife, to have gained over her sacred virtue a dreadful ascendancy, did not satisfy him. He resolved to possess her wholly, to blast the doting husband with conviction of his dishonour, to plunge his offspring in eternal ruin and disgrace, and to despoil them of the protection and tender services of a mother. For the achievement of this purpose, he found it necessary to degrade completely, in her own eyes, the miserable and deluded larina. Then, profiting by her agony and despair, he represented to her that it was, in fact, adding to her guilt, in a most flagrant and abominable degree, to remain under the roof of him she conceived herself to have so deeply injured. Was it not adding treachery to dishonour? And was it not, in reality, the crime of deceiving under such circumstances, far beyond that of acknowledging her guilt, by an immediate and honourable flight? If the treasure is gone pursued the sophisticated Ardolf, the casket can but little avail. And could you then, larina, live a life of deception, diluting your husband in the idea of fondly possessing a treasure that is no longer his? Oh, no, no, cried the wretched wife, leave me, oh cruel Ardolf, fly forever from me, here will I remain and die, and may the tortures I now endure expiate in the sight of a merciful God the most infamous of crimes. But Ardolf, the eloquent friend whose seductive blendishments had so far destroyed the delicate fabric of cannubial happiness, was not to be diverted from the most material part of his task. For slight is the perseverance required to achieve that which is already more than half accomplished. He vowed, and he even believed at the moment, that his vow was sincere, that while life endured, he would adore her who, for his sake, had forfeited so much. My children, oh my children, deeply sighed the frantic larina. May those children, exclaimed Ardolf, calling upon outraged heaven to attest the prayer, may those children witness, nay, perpetrate my destruction, should ever my heart become cold towards thee. Let us forbear to dwell on this scene of weakness, on the one hand, and depravity on the other. Complete as he could wish was the triumph of the seducer. He bore his victim from the scenes of her past honor and her happiness. He bore her from her home, from the arms of her husband, from the embraces of her children, and far from Venice, the place of her nativity. To paint the horror of Loredani when he discovered the profidity of those whom his noble heart had cherished and relied on, the wife he had fondly adored, the guest he had received and trusted, would, if expression could do justice to it, be superfluous. He beheld himself at once the wretched, the desolate, and the only guardian of his forsaken children, forsaken by her who had given them birth. From the wildness of despair he emerged and strung himself to virtuous resolution, determined, while his heart would hold from breaking, to live for his children, and to supply to them as far as the love and protection of a father could, the fallen but once virtuous mother they had lost. Thus did the Marques court to his aid those divine energies of which good minds are ever susceptible. But another trial awaited him still. Scarcely had he acquired fortitude to leave the gloomy solitude of his chamber, ere fresh wounds were inflicted upon his lacerated heart by the horrid tidings that Leonardo, his son, the pride and air of his house, had, soon as the flight of his mother became known, rushed from his home and never since returned. Well did the proud, though agonized father, trace in this action of his boy, his noble, tenacious, and impetuous spirit, well did he trace, exult, and participate in the glorious feelings whose abolition could not be restrained. And while he deplored the rashness of such conduct, he adored the sentiment that had impelled it, yet fondly he hoped that the young enthusiast, when the indignant fervor of the moment should have subsided, would return to be pressed in the arms of his widowed parent, and to mingle his tears with his. He entertained the idea that, under the first painful impression of shame and grief, he had perhaps secreted himself at the house of a friend. But when every friend had been questioned, and day after day had elapsed, and still he came not, the expectant, heart-sick, and disappointed father, with bitter reluctance, resigned all hope, and pressing his solitary daughter in his arms, saw, concentred in her, all that must detach him to existence, and preserve him from despair. Victoria, thus the idol, the hope, and only solace of the heartbroken Marques, was become the deity to which the house looked up. Her word was law throughout. And to dispute the smallest of her wishes would have been deemed a mounting to sacrilege. Ever of a bold and towering spirit, haughty, fond of sway, it was with difficulty that her partial mother could occasionally administer a slight reproof. But now, with an unlimited scope for the growth of these dangerous propensities, they bade fair soon to overtop the power of restriction. Vanely did the Marques hope that time, by maturing her reason and improving her ideas, would correct the wrong bias of her character. For strict education alone can correct the faults in our nature, they will not correct themselves. If improper tendencies are engendered by early neglect, education may still work a reform. For we are in a great measure the creatures of education, rather than of organization. The former can almost always surmount the defects of the latter. Thus, though Victoria in childhood gave proof of what is termed somewhat injudiciously a corrupt nature, yet a firm and decided course of education would so far have changed her bent that those propensities, which by neglect became vices, might have been ameliorated into virtues. For example, haughtiness might have been softened into noble pride, cruelty into courage, implacability into firmness. But by being suffered to grow entirely wild, they overrun the fair garden of the mind, and prevented proper principles from taking root. What then must be thought of the unfortunate and guilty mother, who making light of the sacred charge devolving on her, the welfare of her children, as depending on the just formation of their minds, not only neglects that sacred charge, but seals the flat of their future destruction by setting them in her own conduct an example of moral depravity, depriving them of the world's respect, and rendering them thereby indifferent to their own. With saddened eyes the Marquesse traced occasionally the progress of his daughter's character, but he endeavored to disguise from himself the suspicion that her heart was evil. To add to his unhappiness, the society of Victoria was generally shunned, not in reality on account of the disgrace brought upon her by her mother's conduct, but on account of her own violent and overbearing disposition, which rendered her obnoxious to the young nobility of Venice. The haughty girl, however, attributed the neglect she experienced to the former cause, and as such conceiving herself deprived of the world's consideration, became daily more indifferent regarding it. Thus do vicious minds lay hold of every excuse for the pursuance of evil. One evening, about a year having elapsed since the departure of Lorena, as she sat in sullen silence by her sorrowing parent, he turned affectionately towards her and said, Wherefore, Victoria, dost thou debar thyself of the amusements, befitting thine age and situation, to sit in cheerless solitude with me? Why dost thou not invite to thee thy friends and acquaintances and visit them in return? Victoria haughtily returned, because they would neither come to me nor suffer me to go to them. And why so eagerly inquired the Marques? Because my mother has disgraced us, gloomily replied the unfeeling Victoria. Never had the name of his unfortunate wife been uttered by the Marques since her ignominious flight. Never had he reverted to, or even breathed a reproach upon the baseness of her conduct. The cruel Victoria had roughly touched a string that reverberated to agony. The wretched father struck his forehead, and, springing from his seat, cast a look of anguish on his daughter, and rushed from the apartment. But the recollection she had awakened, the feelings of bitterness she had renewed, rent his bosom with renovated torture. Never, never had the memory of the misguided Larina's ingratitude left his torn mind. In secret he had brooded over his misery. In secret, where no eye could reproach him for his weakness, he had deplored and fondly loved. But never, in the presence of a human being, had he appeared to remember that he had once possessed a wife. Pride preserved him from public regret, but his lacerated heart paid for it when alone. Unable to bear longer insolitude the keenness of those sensations excited by his daughter, he left as the cool breezes of night came on his secluded chamber. He sought by motion to disturb the chain of thought that formed heavy in his mind, and to fly if possible from himself. He had wandered about some time when, in an unfrequent part of the city, he beheld a man walking swiftly before him. He was enveloped in a cloak, but the outlines of his figure were such as to send through the frame of the marquess sensations of tingling horror, followed by a rage so frantic as almost to deprive him of sense. He thought that in the stranger he beheld Ardolf, the machinating villain who had blasted his every hope and happiness. Unknowing what he did, unaware of the violence and rapidity of his own emotions, he dented after the person, and tearing aside his cloak, discovered indeed the wretch he had imagined. Draw, monster, devil, and incendiary, exclaimed the frantic husband, at the same time snatching his stiletto from his bosom. I have no sword, Cooley returned the count, but I have, like yourself, a stiletto that shall be at your service. The marquess heard no more, he struck, and struck again, with desperate fury at the body of this antagonist. But his aim was rendered unsure by his thirst for vengeance, by the raging and uncontrolled passions of his soul. The count, calm and self-collected, parried with hellish dexterity his indiscriminate attempts. But receiving at length the point of his adversary's stiletto in his shoulder, he suffered an impulse of rage to nerve his hand, and, retreating for an instant, then furiously advanced, and plunged his dagger to the hilt in the breast of the unfortunate Loredani. Thus did he become the murderer of the husband, as he had been already the seducer of his wife, and his guilt at the far of heaven assumed a die seven times deeper than before. The instant that the marquess fell, Ardolf hurried from the spot, first taking care to conceal his stiletto, and to wrap his cloak closely around him. To seek assistance for the being he had inhumanly sacrificed, entered not his ignoble mind. There, then, weltering in his blood, might the marquess have remained. But for the arrival of some passengers, who, on ascertaining his rank and residence, conveyed him to the Palazzo Loredani, thither a surgeon, being immediately summoned, dressed his wound, and to the feeble, yet earnest inquiries of the marquess, felt compelled to pronounce it mortal. Tell me the utmost, in a firm, though low voice, he said, that it is possible for me to exist. No longer than tomorrow I fear, the surgeon slowly replied. "'Tis enough,' said the marquess, let my daughter be sent to me. "'My Lord, you must not talk,' observed the professional attendant. Loredani looked upon him with an anguished smile. If I have so few hours to live,' he said, what have I to guard against? Let me see my daughter. "'My Lord, your death will be hastened.' The marquess feebly waved his hand. Victoria was called. She entered the room with slow and trembling steps. She gazed upon the death-marked features of her father with horror and regret—horror at the situation in which she saw him, and regret at the thought of having given him, a few hours before, a pain so deep. Of this emotion was Victoria susceptible. Therefore, at this moment, her heart was not utterly depraved. She approached the bedside of her father, her naturally stubborn heart, now deeply and profoundly affected. The dying marquess stretched forth his parched and trembling hand. She took it, and pressing it to her bosom, sank upon her knees beside him. "'Oh, my child, my Victoria,' he faintly began, I am snatched from thee at a time and season, when least thou canst afford to lose me. Yet ere I die, let me, oh my love, perform my duty to heaven and to thee. Let me implore thee to suffer my dying councils, to sink deep into thy heart. My Victoria, correct, if thou canst the errors of thy disposition. Think upon what we are. Think on life, how unsure, how unstable in its possession. Think that, in the midst of buoyant health, elate in youthful pride, surrounded by riches, and every gratification they can procure, that still, even for a moment, we cannot insure it. Some dreadful, unforeseen event, some accident arises, and puts us off. Let not, therefore, the riches thou wilt in all probability, be mistress of, render thee proud or self-confident. Let them not cause thee to forget, we are but the creatures of a day, existing we know not how, and reserved for, we know not what. Let not the independence of thy fortune render thee unfeeling or inaccessible, nor think that the accidental circumstances of birth and riches render it unnecessary for thee to abide by the strictest rules of virtue. Remember that in proportion to the elevation of thy rank, thy inferiors will look up to thee, and, therefore, it becomes a moral obligation on thee to keep a guard over thy conduct, so that no possible evil may be derived from thy example. For thou wilt be hereafter responsible for whatever vices are imitated from thee, and for whatever contamination thou mayest cause in the society of which thou art a member. Be not deluded with the ignoble idea that it is less incumbent on thee to be virtuous than those below thee, for in proportion as thou hast power and scope for the commission of evil and the gratification of self, so in proportion is thy merit in forbearance and a steady rectitude of conduct. How glorious is it to live with dignity and decorum, footnote, Cicero, and footnote, to reign in the fiery wilderness of the passions, to place happiness in the highest perfection of which our nature is capable, and to remember that we live to become worthy of a higher state than that which we at present move in. Overcome with pain and weakness, the Marquesse suddenly ceased, nor had his counsel been delivered but in a faltering voice, broken every now and then from excess of anguish. The exertion which, from a principle of duty, he forced himself to make, struck forcibly to the heart of Victoria. The time was past midnight, a pale lamp emitted its faint rays over the spacious chamber, and shewed the pallid features of her father, of that father whose love for her, even in death, taught him to despise his own agony. The pause he had made was solemn and affecting, the scene impressed her imagination, and his words her mind, while the silence, the gloomy silence that reigned around, was only interrupted by her sobs. The one hand of the Marquesse hung over the bed, Victoria held it to her heart, his dim eyes were fixed upon her with an expression of love and bitter regret. Oh, my Victoria, thou wilt be unprotected, he faintly said, and a deep sigh rose from his heavy heart, as dreadful recollections passed through his brain. Suddenly a noise was heard, the door of the apartment flew open, and in rushed, no, it was no delusion, the figure of Lorena. Heaven, do I behold, aright, feebly cried Loredani, endeavoring to raise himself in his bed, or his death so near that already dim shadows, the semblance of former friends, hover before my eyes. Oh, my God, oh Loredani, my injured husband, bless me, I implore, oh, you cannot, yet forgive, oh, forgive me, ere you die, curse me not with your last breath. So saying, the frantic Lorena threw herself prostrate on the ground by the side of the bed, where lay her dying husband, cut off by her guilt and misconduct in the flower of his life. Loredani succeeded for an instant in raising his head upon his hand. A heavenly and celestial expression irradiated his features. He gazed upon the prostrate wretch beside him with the look of a pitying angel. Then, motioning to Victoria, he said, retire my child for a moment. When she was withdrawn, Lorena said he, in a low, solemn voice, arise. She raised herself upon her knees, but covered her face with her hands. Lorena, said he again, in the voice of a man who conscious he has not long to live, desires to say nothing idly. Lorena, look upon me. There was in his manner which impelled obedience, and the eyes of his guilty wife met his. Lorena, it is yet in thy power to repair, in some measure, the evil thou hast done. When I am laid in the grave, seek out, if possible, thy son, that son who fled his home on the discovery of thy profidity. Seek him, and if it should please heaven, that thou should's prove successful, retire with him and thy daughter, Victoria, far from Venice. For Venice, me thinks, is no longer a place for thee. Endeavour to expiate, by a life of penitence, the great crimes thou hast been guilty of, for, dreadfully, as thou hast marred the happiness and the honour of thy children, perhaps it is not destroyed. Retire, then, to where thou art unknown, and hereafter in the world, they may claim consideration and respect. But, oh, Lorena, tremble, if thou returnest to guilt and infamy. Eternal destruction, then, betides both thee and them. There is no redemption. Never will the impression of this night fade from the mind of Victoria, if thou wilt yet have courage and resolution to abandon thy guilty career, and to instill into her mind, by thy future example, principles of virtue and honour. Lorena, unfortunate and once-loved wife, thou wilt make thyself answerable by thy conduct, not only for the life and future actions of thy daughter, but for the fiat which will go forth respecting her, when she renders up her great account. Ponder, then, well upon the mighty charge, that, by appearing before me at this awful moment, that bringest upon thyself, yes, on thy example, then, who couldst desert mine innocent and lovely offspring, on thy example wilt the life and conduct of thy daughter now be formed? Oh, spare me, spare me, cried the wretched Lorena, in accents of despair. I swear, let my Victoria enter, said the Marques, gasping for breath. I have, I have not a moment to live. Lorena rose and bade Victoria enter, as she approached. Quick my child, cried Lorena, and embraced thy mother, Lorena. Now swear to protect and cherish thy daughter, to preserve her from evil and from the contamination of bad example. I swear, I swear, articulated Lorena, in a voice drowned by sobs, and pressed convulsively her daughter to her bosom. Victoria, swear, murmured the Marques, that thou wilt forget the errors and imitate the future virtues and example of thy mother. I swear, Father, in a solemn voice answered Victoria. Oh, God, I thank thee, thank thee, gasped the dying Loredani. Kiss me, thy hand, Lorena, I forgive thee. Oh, God, my God, I die content. Thus perished in the flower of his days, the noble Loredani, the victim of a man's ingratitude, and of a woman's depravity. Recontra of the ill-starred Marques with Ardolf, the latter hurried, as has been already observed, from the spot. Having had sufficient time to escape from the scene of action, and being, of course, completely unsuspected, he reached by by and circuitous ways his own house, which, having had occasion to return to Venice, he had hired for a short time only, at some distance from the populous city under a feigned name, hoping for it the little while he had to remain completely to elude discovery from the injured Loredani. To return, however, when he entered the room where the apostate wife Lorena was sitting, she was struck with an appearance of sternness in his countenance and an unusual seriousness of manner. Approaching him and tenderly taking his hand, for deep was the sway the traitor had acquired over her he had betrayed, she asked if ought had occurred to which she might attribute his altered look. Pressing the hand which held his, and looking steadily in her face, he said, Lorena, I have this night committed that which my heart condemns, but which the necessity of the case enforced. Say only before I tell thee all, that thou wilt not hate me for what involuntarily I have done. Hate thee, passionately exclaimed the deluded wife, I could not hate thee, Ardolf, if thou hadst committed murder. Murder, gloomily returned Ardolf, I hope not, Lorena, but I have wounded, I fear mortally thy husband. A piercing shriek was the only answer of the horror struck Lorena. Her avenging crimes flew in her face. They flashed like lightning through her brain. She rushed from the presence of Ardolf, and flew as the resistless impulse of her frantic remorse dictated to the well-known mention of her martyred husband. Ardolf, who merely imagined that she had flown from him, impaled by the overflowing anguish of the moment, suspected not, till some hours had elapsed, whether she had gone. When at length, however, he surmised and ascertained the truth, his rage and apprehensions knew no bounds, for the passion with which the wretched Lorena had first inspired him, that fatal passion, which in its consequences and progress were the cause of such immediate and such widespreading evils, had not as yet subsided. Opposition to or difficulty could only tend in the breast of such a character as Ardolf to give it strength and violence. Sooner at this period would he have endured death than her loss, and he determined therefore whatever the chance of being suspected, whatever the risk of being discovered, to respect no sanctuary which could detain her from him, nor permit her even to exist independently of himself. For this purpose he completely disguised his person, and wandering near to Palazzo Loredani, now the mausoleum only of its once happy master, resolved that from that spot he would never depart, but with her whom he knew to be enclosed within its walls. It was on the eve of the second day after the death of Loredani, and Lorena in the bitterness of remorseful anguish was weeping the consequences of her unhappy conduct that a letter was put into her hands. Upon opening it she found it to run as follows. Your present residence is no place for you, having forfeited by a preference most gratefully recognized, all titled to act as the wife of the deceased Loredani. I would recommend it to you to depart from the place where you now are with all possible expedition. The haughty relatives of the Marques will soon fill the house. You will be considered as the boldest and most infamous of women, and treated with all the ignominy that revenge and ill-liberality can dictate Ardolf. Lorena, whose mind was still cutely smarting under the wounds inflicted by the last words of her husband, and whose heart was deeply and sensibly impressed with a conviction of her unworthiness, wrote without hesitation the following answer. Ardolf, dare my guilty heart admit the horrible acknowledgement that I love you still, you whom my bewildered reason shows me at once a seducer and a murderer, oh wretch that can cherish such sentiments, for what am I reserved? But mark my determination, it is to see you no more. With Victoria, the innocent sufferer for her mother's crimes, it is my intention to quit immediately the roof under which I am. I shall retire for a time into a remote province. Then, when the remembrance of my infamy has ceased, I shall again endeavour to mix with society. Not for my own sake, but for the sake of that daughter I have so cruelly wronged. Ask not therefore to see me, for the request will be vain. I dare not load with such a weight of guilt my blackened soul. Forever farewell. Having dispatched these few lines by the messenger, who still waited, the wretched, half-repentant Lorena expected, with an agitation and horror of mind, she vainly attempted to quell, some further notice from the unworthy Ardolf. Scarcely dared she acknowledge to herself the base, the lurking hope, that he would not so easily resign her. With trembling frame, then, and mind of anarchy, did she compel herself to prepare for a speedy necessary departure from the roof of her husband, where she felt, with impunity, she must not long remain. An hour, however, had not elapsed since the departure of her letter before the same messenger returned with an answer, an answer of which, to the eternal shame of Lorena, be it said, conveyed to her breast a sensation of smothered, unacknowledged delight, equal at least to the irrepressible feelings of shame, with which it was accompanied. It ran thus. You would retire from Venice with your daughter. Mark me, Lorena, with me there is no trifling. Leave at midnight your present abode, and bring with you Victoria, on the canal opposite your window, I shall await you. You must go with me to Montebello, the villa which I hired on my arrival here, as a retreat during my necessary stay. The situation is retired and distant from the city. There we may remain free from suspicion, for it is the opinion of everyone that the Marques met his death by the hands of Braavos. I have only this to add, where there, if you still continue to desire it, I will myself accompany you to any seclusion you may point out and leave you there forever unmolested. Let this, however, be fully understood between us. I swear by everything that is sacred and holy, whether you accede or not to my present proposition, you depart not unaccompanied by me from the city of Venice. Through the world will I pursue you, Lorena, forever cross your path, haunt you eternally, if for a moment you dare hesitate or think to escape. Ardolf, from her variously agitated heart, Lorena heaved a deep and tremulous sigh, essaying to believe herself irrecoverably fixed in the resoluteness of virtue, and without daring farther to investigate the real workings of her mind she wrote as follows, confident, most cruel, and invincible of mankind, confident that I shall live and die in the performance of my promise to I dare not write the name for my conscious beating heart unnerves my fingers. I accede to your proposition and trust, since I must, to your honor for the performance of your promise. Thus far being arranged, the weak and misguided Lorena again commenced her preparations, but ah, with renewed alacrity, for though undefined perhaps by herself her sensations were those produced by a conviction of still being loved, and still being seen once more by him, whom of all men she should have shunned and abhorred. Still such is the picture too often of a guilty human heart. At midnight Lorena, accompanied by Victoria, left the Palazzo Loredani. The determined Ardolf was punctual to his appointment. He received them with a proud seriousness and conducting them to a gondola which he had in waiting. They speedily arrived at Montabello. It is not necessary to enlarge upon this incidental part of our history, suffice it, that arrived at his villa, the seductive Ardolf, called to his aid all those dangerous and seductive blandishments, which already had been the cause of so much guilt and mischief, and successfully, too successfully, he called them. The wretched Lorena yielded at first to the delay of a few hours under the roof of the unprincipled betrayer, and well he knew how to improve this short delay. For what man, having once corrupted the heart and principles of the woman he deludes, has ever found it difficult to maintain his victory, if he thought it worth his while? Most literally indeed did Ardolf keep his conditional promise that Lorena should have free liberty to depart if she still continued to wish it. Unhappy wretch, she wished it not, for blinded by the fascinations of her lover, she found it impossible to live but in his presence. Gradually and imperceptibly, their intercourse, now doubly criminal, became dearer and more strongly cemented than ever, yet was the wretched farce of journeying in various directions and even to considerable distances under the pretext of discovering some suitable situation for the young Victoria and her deluded mother, steadily persevered in. For did not Ardolf know that change of scene was conducive to the plans he had in view of restraining from compunctious reflection the mind of Lorena, and by so ordering that in his society she should experience no moment of melancholy, make her view with horror the idea of abandoning him and secure her entirely to himself. The plans of Ardolf, ever well arranged, rarely failed of success. Infatuated by his seductions, Lorena sought, eagerly sought, to evade reflection, and as a wretch writhing with pain flies to the relief of opium, so did Lorena, from the pangs of conscience, to the soothing and intoxicating presence of him who destroyed her. For could she ever endure the secret, horrible conviction of her guilt, that she had rushed from the deathbed of her husband, from where his sainted spirit still lingered to the very arms of his murderer, that she had forfeited her solemn vow which his soul had terried to hear sworn? Could she, even with all the aid of sophistry, attempt to seek in her own mind a palliation of this? She had no resource then, but in Ardolf. In his eyes she idolatrously beheld an excuse for her crimes, and in his fascinating voice was recorded a temptation she imagined no heart could have resisted. Gradual and terrible are the approaches of vice. The only absolute original imperfection of Lorena was vanity and love of admiration. This error trifling when in adornment state, but dangerous when improperly called forth, of what a catalog of dreadful evils did it not become the cause. What awful mischiefs had not already ensued should not this lesson then be conveyed to the mind that the propensity of our natures to evil should be vigilantly checked, and that the guard which should be constantly kept over the wanderings of the heart should never be suffered to slumber on its past. The Melancholy events which it characterized that period had become fainter and fainter in the mind of Lorena. The journeys of inquiry had long since ceased, and on the subject of her departure from the society of Ardolf, the perjured wife no more expatiated. They did not reside in the city of Venice, but still at Montabello, some few miles distant, for the circumstances still unforgotten, with which their names were connected would have caused them to be viewed with sustain and indignation by the higher classes of society. They remained, therefore, at their villa, and thither can thrive to attract most of the disillute and many of the thoughtless inhabitants of Venice. For the aggregate of the world will run even into the very dens of profligacy for amusement, as in a few individuals alone is it vested to be the censors of vice. Montabello was sounded to the voice of mirth and folly. Reflection appeared to be banished, and those events which should have been engraved in characters of blood upon the hearts of its inmates appeared rapidly sinking into oblivion, or to be remembered only with indifference. It happened that among the gay Venetians who frequented their society was one called Ilcante Lorenza. He was a man of peculiar sentiments and extraordinary character. He came not to Montabello in search of amusement, nor merely from indolence. He came from an investigating spirit to analyze its inhabitants and to discover, if possible, from the result of his own observation, whether the mischief they had caused and the conduct they pursued arose from a selfish depravity of heart or was induced by the force of inevitable circumstances. He came to investigate character and to increase his knowledge of the human heart. He found, however, or fancy that he found, but little to interest the consideration of the liberal philosopher in the relative situations of Ardolf and Lorena. He concluded in his mind that they had voluntarily rushed into evil and had possessed the power to have withdrawn themselves in time from the dangerous vortex. He therefore viewed them with contempt and dislike, unmixed with the slightest portion of pity. He beheld wretches who had studied alone their own gratification, wholly unmindful of the mischiefs they might cause in its achievement. Under this impression he regarded with eyes of no common interest the young Victoria. Pride alone forbade his soliciting her hand, for never yet had Lorenza beheld a female whose character he imagined so formed to constitute his happiness. Nay, so ardent in his admiration was the misguided philosopher, misguided in this instance, that had no dishonor in his idea been attached to the unfortunate girl, he would have made her his wife upon speculation and relied upon the power he believed himself to possess over the human mind for modeling her afterwards so as perfectly to assimilate to his wishes. Her wild and imperious character he would have a say to render noble, firm, and dignified. Her vierte he would have softened and her boldness checked. Lorenza knew not so unconscious as the heart of man of the springs of his own movements, that it was the graceful elegant form and the animated countenance of Victoria that led him to form her strongly marked character, the best and most flattering estimate. She was at this period about seventeen. The age of Lorenza was five and thirty. His person was majestic and his countenance, though serious, possessed a sweetness of expression that riveted and delighted the eye, but it was not this so much that engaged the attentions and allured the fancy of the young Victoria. No, it was the flattering remark that herself exclusively attracted his regards, regards which the natural haughtiness and apparent coldness of his character rendered peculiarly gratifying to her vain mind. It was for this she sought this society and courted his notice till Lorenza wound almost to a pitch of enthusiasm, scarcely lived but in the hope of calling her his. Attachments his philosophic mind had none, accepting to a brother some years younger than himself, who wasn't this time absent from Italy, to divert the melancholy of an almost hopeless passion. His thoughts and wishes therefore centered in Victoria with undivided ardor. It may naturally be supposed that the character of Victoria, by nature more prone to evil than to good and requiring at once the strong curb of wisdom and example to regulate it, had not since the death of her father obtained much opportunity of improvement. She saw, exemplified in the conduct of her mother, the flagrant violation of a most sacred oath. She saw every principle of delicacy and of virtue apparently contempt. And although the improper bias of her mind led her infinitely to prefer the gay though horrible state of degradation in which she lived, to the retirement and seclusion so strongly insisted on by their dying Marquesi. Yet she had reflection and discrimination enough fully to perceive and condemn the flogitious disregard those dying commands had received. But Victoria was a girl of no common feelings. Her ideas wildly wandered and to every circumstance and situation she gave rather the vivid coloring of her own heated imagination than that of truth. Berenza had awakened in her breast feelings and passions which had till now remained dormant mighty and strong like the slumbering lion even in their inactivity. Slight indeed was the spur which they required to rouse them. She had ever contemplated the seductive and in appearance delightful union of her mother with Ardolf with such sentiments as were at the time inexplicable to herself. But when Berenza singled her out when he addressed her in the language of love she then discovered that her sentiments were those of envy of an ardent consuming desire to be situated like that unhappy mother like her to receive the attentions listen to the tenderness and sink beneath the ardent glances of a lover such such were the baleful effects of parental vice upon the mind of a daughter a mind that required the strongest power of precept and virtuous conduct to correct it at length then with secret exaltation she exclaimed at length I too have found a lover I shall now be as happy as my mother at least if Berenza should love me as Count Ardolf loves her but it happened that the heart of Berenza had acquired a real passion while that of Victoria was susceptible only of novel and seducing sensations of anticipations of future pleasure Berenza loved Victoria was only roused and flattered upon consideration but not certainly impartial consideration the enamored philosopher concluded that it would not be an act of baseness or guilt to withdraw Victoria from her present dangerous and ineligible situation to acknowledge his passion to her and induce her if possible to abandon the contaminated roof under which she recited the pride of the Venetian however must have been stronger than his love for it rejected the idea of making her his wife while he determined to leave no means untried to cause her to become his mistress pursuant to this idea he sought the earliest opportunity of obtaining a private interview with Victoria an opportunity early presented itself and having declared to his delighted auditress the ardent love with which she had inspired him he delicately but frankly proposed to her the plan upon which he had for some time past suffered himself to dwell and raptured the boldly organized mind the wild and unrestrained sentiments of Victoria prevented her from being offended at the proposition of Lorenza had she for an instant conceived that has strict ideas deemed her incapable of being legally his she must with all her desire for a lover have spurned him indignantly from her but pride here acted as a preservative of pride and her vanity easily led her to believe that Lorenza bought marriage a degrading and unnecessary tie to love like his under this impression she gave him her hand Lorenza seized it with ardor as earnest of consent and seating himself at the feet of his mistress who smiled with high and unusual joy he entered more fully into his arrangements and the means by which he proposed she should quit Montabello unsuspected Victoria listened with lively emotions pleasure flushed triumphant her animated cheek and shown in her wild eyes with an almost painful brilliancy her heart glowed with the love of enterprise she felt capable of deeds which though in their conception they dilated and seduced her soul she could neither comprehend nor identify but she felt inspired for action and the enthusiasm which burnt in her bosom lighted up every feature with lambent and ethereal fire suddenly in the very midst of her felicitations while Lorenza still at her feet was pouring in her intoxicated ears his various plans for their future happiness enrushed rage and horror depicted in her countenance the half frantic lorina wretch she exclaimed seizing violently the arm of victoria wretch is it thus you recompense my indulgence toward you the fund the foolish confidence which your mother has ever placed in you and you senor Lorenza monster of depravity is it thus you recompense the hospitality of count Ardolf in seeking to seduce our only happiness the innocent victoria senora replied Lorenza with a disdainful smile you are indeed well qualified to arraign those who trample on the rites of hospitality the eyes of the conscience struck lorina sought for an instant the ground her countenance became suffused with a guilty flush her heart beat with violence and scarcely could she support her trembling frame Lorenza with dignified calmness took the hand of victoria i do not he continued in a firm deliberate voice i do not plead guilty to the charge of attempting to seduce your daughter i wish he added in a severe accent to save her from seduction pardon me if i say that under this roof i can see if it inevitably awaits her victoria cried lorina recovering from her agitation but awed by the manner of Lorenza from applying to him victoria i command you to leave the room yes for the first time in my life i command you never more to hold converse with ill-called Lorenza Lorenza fixed his proud and inquiring eyes upon the countenance of victoria whether she caught a spark of the fire which emanated from them or thus for the first time asserted the bold and independent sentence of her bosom is immaterial but with drawing proudly her hand from Lorenza as though she needed not his aid and advancing a few steps towards her mother she thus replied that you never senora commanded me till now is true that you command me now when it is too late is equally so i determined to quit this roof which is no protection to me for that of ill-called Lorenza which i trust will be oh victoria victoria aren't that mad exclaimed lorina clasping her hands and now beginning to feel the terrible commencement of those retributive pangs so justly ordained as the punishment of those parents who corrupt their children aren't them mad my child or what's the voluntarily plunge me in a total disgrace plunge you in disgrace contemptuously returned victoria oh my child my child cried the distracted mother sinking under the overpowering excess of remorseful anguish what's thou indeed abandoned me you abandoned me my brother and my father sternly replied the torturing victoria oh daughter oh victoria groaned lorina this from thee mother eternally has thou disgraced us she replied for me no one has ever thought me worthy of love betelkont Lorenza let me then accept his love and be happy why i ask you should considerations of your happiness sway me in opposition to my own when you loved count art off you know mother did you fled with him regardless of the misery you gave my father do you not remember to cease scorpion cease for god's sake shriek lorina in agony let me then depart with ilkont Lorenza remember it is your fault pursued the pitiless girl that ever i saw him had you but kept the oath the oath mother that you swore at the deathbed of my father the images conjured up by the forked tongue of a reproaching child were too much even for the guilty lorina to endure an in a convulsion of irrepressible anguish she sunk upon the floor barrenza who had at first listened with delight and surprised the independence of spirit as you considered it evinced by the undaunted victoria now became visibly shocked at her persevering and remorseless cruelty to a mother whose personal tenorness for her at least merited some little gratitude scarcely willing to analyze if his love for her had not already somewhat diminished by the display of a trait so offensive to a delicate and feeling mind as filial and gratitude and unkindness he approached and raised lorina from the floor when she became in a degree recovered he assisted her with respectful forbearance to her chamber and whispering to victoria in a rather serious voice to be tender towards her mother retired and left them together but the slight shade of reserve which marked the countenance of barrenza as he waved his hand to victoria and parting had not failed to make even more than its due impression on her her vivid imagination easily led her to trace the occasion of his altered air she saw that her cruel recriminations of her mother had excited his disgust alarmed at the remotest idea of becoming indifferent to him she instantly determined on regaining his esteem approaching her weeping mother therefore with a conciliating error she endeavored to soothe her into composure but having awakened the remorse of the conscious lorina she no sooner be held in the artful victoria a disposition to softness than she resolved to take immediate advantage of it to withdraw her if possible from the vortex of guilt and libertinism into which she saw her plunging a keener paying assailed the heart of the mother as she acknowledged in dreadful conviction the fatal effects of her own example to alleviate therefore the tortures of her mind to save her loaded conscience from such an addition of guilt she sought with energy to preserve her daughter to every persuasion however even to every supplication to give up her distracting resolution without reserve the wild and passioned victoria was holy death the utmost that lorina could obtain was a reluctant promise to see a consparenza no more for that day even this would not have been granted had not the deeply meaning victoria imagined that by debarring her lover from seeing her for a few hours he would begin so far to feel a loss of her society as holy to forget in his uneasiness the cause he had for displeasure against her lorina after some hours of more poignant wretchedness than she had almost ever experienced separated at length for the night from her daughter she flew instantly to art off and imparted to him this new and unexpected cause to her of unhappiness so keen indeed were her compunctious feelings that with bitter tears she vowed she would quit him on the morrow and retire at once with victoria to some seclusion we're experienced now convinced her she ought long since to have been art off listened without interruption when larina paused he looked at her with tender seriousness and said better union like ours larina cemented by ties and by circumstances which however they may be considered by the prejudiced and misjudging nothing should have the power of annuling but such an union should be either innovated or destroyed by the imputant caprice of a forward girl admits not of a thought listen to what i have to propose and let victoria as she ought reap the fruits of her audacity it would be easy for me to forbid ilcant borenza to remain here another hour it would be easy to imprison victoria in her chamber and prevent them from seeing each other but we shall have recourse to no compulsory measures on the contrary to such only as shall be at once simple cool and effective it is most probable that ilcant borenza has never had occasion to correspond with your daughter he is therefore ignorant of her handwriting do you then draw up a few lines supposed to the following effect dear borenza owing to the unhappiness manifested by my mother i have agreed to deny myself for a little time the pleasure of seeing you i therefore entreat of you to return to venice and when the effect produced by present circumstances shall in some degree have worn off i will gladly write to you to return let these or a few similar lines be conveyed at once to borenza and you will find the effect produced will be an immediate and voluntary absence from hence the instant he departs for venice victoria shall quit this abode without me do you mean art off we will both escort her hence larina and she shall be too securely lodged ever more to interrupt our happiness and now that an idea strikes me he hastily added perceiving that larina was on the point of speaking and determined to drown her objections i have an admirable seclusion for her in our excursions last year larina we made at one time a short stay as you doubtless call to mind with your cousin the senora demon dina she resides i think near traviso nothing can be more retired more fitted for victoria than her abode the senora demon dina was singularly polite and courteous towards me smiling as he spoke come come my larina no objections but on this matter we will talk further meantime should even borenza finding that he is not recalled by his mistress venture hither we can receive him with marked coolness when he no longer perceives the lodestar of his attraction he will naturally conceive that we have purposely withdrawn her and having certainly no claim to an explanation he will speedily and in chagrin desert us thus he added in a gayer tone shall we be rid of every source of trouble and uneasiness and thus my beloved you perceive there is no immediate necessity for separating the soul from the body to tear yourself from me to whom you are more even than soul no we must not bend to circumstances we must make them subservient to us no human being nor any consideration on earth he added in an emphatic voice must now larina separate thee and me but come resuming the gaiety of his manner to business larina mechanically took up a pen and as ardolph dictated traced something similar to what has already been given the letter finished it was conveyed to borenza by a female servant of larina's who was ordered not to wait for any answer the feelings of borenza as he read characters which he never for a moment doubted had been traced by the hand of victoria were such as to the line of conduct they instigated him to adopt highly favorable to the views of count ardolph but borenza was not displeased by the perusal nay it is uncertain if he had not even a contrary sentiment for he believed that victoria's declining to see him for a short time was merely an atonement offered by her for her recent misconduct to an insulted and wounded mother as such therefore he felt with genuine goodness disposed to concede to her idea and believing that his departure might assist to establish that harmony which his presence had interrupted and which it was absolutely requisite to the ultimate achievement of his own wishes should be restored he determined to lose no time but to quit montobello at once for the purpose of being enabled to return to it hereafter with better prospects of success he experienced to something like a sensation of pleasure that victoria should evince remorse for the pain she had inflicted upon a doting parent and perceiving in addition that a prompt departure would avoid some unpleasant and perhaps very serious explanation with count ardolph he called instantly under the impression of these ideas for his servant and ordered him to get ready for returning to venus he had indeed a slight inclination to leave a line for victoria but upon reflection thinking it might only tend to irritate lorina against him he determined to dispense even with this and all being very soon prepared for his short journey with a bright italian sky sparkling over his head and the moon to light him on his way il cont barrenza beta due to montobello end of chapter five